


i would live a thousand lifetimes if it's you i'm sent to find.

by littlethiefs



Series: Ghost of a Renegade [4]
Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post Empire of Gold, Post canon, Smut, also this is the second smut i've written in a row???, dara dominates, i don't know who i am, this is part of my post eog series but, wish i were nahri tbfh, you can DEFINITELY read it as a standalone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlethiefs/pseuds/littlethiefs
Summary: Post Empire of Gold.Dara has to come and go, and Nahri always gets a little sulky the day he has to leave.P.S: There are fangs involved.
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri e-Nahid
Series: Ghost of a Renegade [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901329
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	i would live a thousand lifetimes if it's you i'm sent to find.

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by [Stand Still by ZAYN.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5yj9ZbsYef8)

With the early rays of the sun filtering through her window, Nahri turned on her side to face the man lying beside her. He took her breath away, as he always did. His eyes were closed, lashes long and fine settled over his sharp cheekbones. His curls spilled out on the pillow beneath his head, and Nahri reached out to brush a lock away from the Afshin mark on his brow. Dara never seemed more at peace than he did when he was sleeping a dreamless sleep, his breathing deep and even and calm. Absent the alertness always present in his expression, he almost seemed a different person than when he was awake. And Nahri felt a pang in her chest knowing that she was the only one who could look upon him like this, knowing that she was the only one he trusted enough to be completely vulnerable around.

She let her fingers trail his jaw with a feather light touch, careful not to wake him. She cupped his face, her thumb hovering over his lips as she watched, feeling warmth and unease both at once. He was leaving. Today. And she would not see him again for months - months that felt like years. Months where she felt as if she was holding her breath, as if she’d inhaled before watching him step beyond the veil, and didn’t exhale until he was climbing through her bedroom window seasons later with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face. Creator, it was difficult. It was hard letting him walk away, and so every time she woke up with the nagging at the back of her mind that he would leave once again, she put up her walls, her shields, and convinced herself it would not hurt this time.

“You are staring, my love,” came his voice and Nahri jumped, not having realized that he’d opened his eyes and was watching her watch him. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pulled her hand away from his skin and turned away. She became so attuned to his every movement, his every heartbeat and hitch of breath in these few days they spent with each other that she was almost certain he was frowning. Sure enough, when she turned to look back at him, his eyebrows were furrowed as he watched her curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied, the word leaving her lips clipped and crude. She closed her eyes, feeling that familiar mantle of irritation, of unreasonable anger take over her. 

“Liar,” he said softly. Wordlessly, Nahri slipped out of their warm bed and grabbed the chador draped on the back of her chair. She wrapped it around her shoulders before gathering her unruly hair and twisting it into a bun, all while she was aware that he was watching her. That made her angry too, because truly, what had she done in a past life that she didn’t deserve having  _ this _ without a time limit eating away at every moment?

She made her way to her lavatory, clicking the door shut behind her. Nahri washed her face, then looked at her reflection in the mirror. The faint lines on her forehead, the crescents at the corners of her mouth and the faintest, sparsest strands of gray in her hair. And him? The same as always, like he was frozen in time. She would spend most of her life apart from him, stealing moments where they could while she withered away before his eyes. She was temporary. A fleeting presence in the life that spilled out in eons before him, so who was she to even ask him to stay? 

She could ask him. But she was afraid that if she asked him now, she would ask him again tomorrow, and the day after, and then every day beyond that. She would hold him back. From his impossible quest and his noble goal and his gentle hope.  _ Let me earn a place in the garden with my family _ . 

Without drying her face, she went back to their room, beads of water clinging to her hair and trickling down her skin. He was still in bed, sitting with his back against the wall, legs stretched out before him. He was playing with his dagger, twirling it absentmindedly between his deft fingers. Whistling. 

_ Whistling _ ? Nahri bristled, annoyed that he could seem so nonchalant, so utterly at ease. Of course he’d be.  _ He’d _ get to become the wind and travel the world, while she stayed here in stuffy rooms with cranky politicians and a ring wedged in her heart that seemed to get heavier every day. She shot him a withering look that he caught, the whistle dying on his lips. 

She had flung open the bedroom door and was halfway through when he said, “Wait,” and she stopped in her tracks. She turned to face him, and he patted the sheets beside him gently and Nahri was already walking to him before she could stop herself. He scooted over, and she sat, not meeting his gaze. “What have I done?” he asked, reaching out and touching a wet curl.

“Nothing,” she said truthfully, her traitorous heart speeding up at his touch.

“Is it because it is disgusting how irresistible I am to you?” Dara shot her a lopsided grin, and she stood up, frustrated. How could he be cracking  _ jokes _ ? 

She spun around to walk away when she felt him grab her wrist, his grip gentle but firm. Slowly, he pulled her towards him until she was between his legs, so close she could almost count his eyelashes. Dara touched the hem of the chador wrapped around her shoulders before twirling a wet strand of hair around a finger, the heat of his skin eliciting a soft hiss. 

And looking at him now, she knew that he knew exactly what was on her mind, and somehow, she still couldn’t bring herself to say it. “I-” she began.

“You know I would do anything for you, Nahri,” He said simply, the intensity of his gaze like a brand on her skin. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt some of the tension from her shoulders dissolve. 

“I know. That’s the problem,” she whispered. “I can’t ask you to stay only for you to stay cooped up within these four walls while I grow old and die-” Dara’s eyes narrowed, and Nahri felt his heart skip at those words. His grip on her arm tightened. “But watching you leave is hard.” They sat in silence for a moment before Dara offered her a small, sad smile.

“One day, Banu Nahida, we will figure this out. Until then, when you want me to stay for another day, ask it of me. A day, a few days? Those make no difference.” He framed her face with both hands, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “And I would gladly spend the rest of my existence within these four walls with you, quest be damned.”

Nahri kissed him, threading her fingers through his hair, pressing her body so close to his that she could barely breathe. Dara’s hands came to rest on the sides of her hips while he shifted position, until she was lying on her back with the weight of him pressing her into the sheets. The heat of him engulfed every sense until all she could see was his green eyes, all she could hear was his breath as it met her skin, all she could taste was  _ him _ . 

Her mouth opened under his, their tongues brushing together fleetingly. He unwrapped the chador from around her shoulders, flinging it away and then he found the spot at the base of her throat that never failed to elicit a moan from deep within her. She breathed in the scent of his hair, the smell of smoke and citrus invading her senses while he kissed her throat and ran a hand down the length of her arm. Gooseflesh erupted on her skin, and Nahri sighed, letting him burn her. And then a “Nahri?”

“Mm?”

“Is the shirt you are wearing important to you?”

“No,” she said, perplexed at the question, and then the weight of him was gone. Her eyes fluttered open to see him upright, one knee on either side of her. Dara shrugged out of his tunic, and Nahri’s breath caught— as it always did. With outstretched hands, she touched the taut muscles of his abdomen, feeling them ripple underneath her touch. And then he took both her wrists with one hand and pinned them above her head, making her gasp with surprise. And excitement. But Dara wasn’t done. With his free hand he reached between them and found the space where her buttons held her tunic shut. With an ease that thrilled her even more, he ripped her shirt open, her buttons clinking on the floor and rolling away. Nahri’s eyes widened as his narrowed. He drank her in, lips slightly apart, before he descended and her bare skin met his, and all Nahri could do was whisper his name like it was a prayer.

Dara trailed kisses down her neck, one hand still holding her arms in place over her head, the other settled maddeningly by her right breast. He continued his line of fire down her chest, and just as his hand rose to cup one of her breasts, his mouth descended on the other’s nipple. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive peak while his hand traced circles around the other, and Nahri, half-mad with desire, tried to wriggle her hands free just so she could tangle them in his hair, to clutch his back with her nails, but he held fast.

“Infuriating man,” she panted when he moved to the other breast, barely able to get the words out. She felt him smile against her skin and butterflies fluttered in her belly. How he had the same effect on her as he did a decade ago, she did not know. Nahri ground her hips forward into his, feeling the bulge between her legs, and she heard him groan— a desperate, hoarse sound that made her even slicker than she already was. Dara kissed the curve of her breast, then moved his lips back up to her neck, to her jaw, to the corner of her mouth, until he had covered it with his. 

And then she felt something sharp against her lips that made her gasp and pull back in surprise. Dara’s eyes were dark with desire as he looked down at her, his curls spilling onto her face and his lips slightly apart, revealing what had pricked her. Fangs.

Involuntary shifting had happened before. When Dara was asleep, parts of him would shift to his daeva form, often while he was seeing vivid dreams, when keeping a grip on his mortal form was difficult to do. His control over it when he was awake was tight— but sometimes even when he was absent-minded, his hands would shift, or parts of his skin would reveal the fiery body underneath.

Nahri tilted her head to one side, profoundly confused at the fact that she seemed to have the same effect on him that he had on her. “I’m sorry,” he said, mistaking her expression for something else.

“Don’t,” she simply said. Once more, she pulled against the hand pinning her in place, and this time he let her go. Nahri touched the tip of her finger to one of his sharp teeth, cradling his face with the other, then pulled his mouth down once again onto hers. 

Dara exhaled raggedly against her mouth, sinking into the kiss with a slow thoroughness that made her limbs light and her head spin. His sharp teeth brushed against her bottom lip and she shivered with the pleasure and intimacy of it, and while she was making feeble attempts to control herself, his hand traced the soft curves of her body, lightly caressing the side of her breast, the dip of her waist, before he reached between them and plunged it under her trousers. He shifted to bring a knee between her legs, prying apart her legs while his hand came to rest on her inner thigh, hot fingers digging into her skin.

Breaking away from her, Dara once again trailed kisses down her body, his lips soft and urgent and wet against her skin. Her hands twisted in his hair, harder the further he went down until he was at her navel, slipping his fingers under the waistband of her trousers, pulling them down with an agonizing deliberation that made her want to scream at him. “Dara,” she begged and she heard him laugh, his breath tickling her skin. Finally, he helped her out of her trousers before settling between her legs, one arm hooked around the back of one thigh, the other tracing circles on the other, making her squirm beneath him. 

“Dara!” she hissed, and saw his eyes darken. He lowered his head between her legs, his gaze never leaving hers while he did so, then hooked her legs around his shoulders. Nahri felt the strong, tight muscles of his back flex beneath her legs, and she clasped her ankles together, swearing under her breath as his lips fluttered against her slick inner thighs. 

By the Creator, he would be the death of her. He could take her hand and lead her down to hell, and she would go with him gladly if it meant he would keep looking at her like he was now.

And then he was kissing her folds. Brief caresses of his lips against her that made her back arch and see golden in front of her eyes. “Nahri,” he said, his voice deep and hoarse, his hot breath against her clit causing gooseflesh to erupt all over her legs. “Ask me to stay.”

_ Infuriating _ . She shook her head, even as her legs tightened around his shoulders, even as she became a little wetter with his head between her legs. Unable to control herself, she lifted her hips to position herself against his mouth and Dara, predicting what she was about to do before she had even done it, held her in place, a wicked glint in his eye. He had her exactly where he wanted her and he knew it.

He kissed her inner thigh again, opening his mouth and letting the sharp points of his teeth brush against her sensitive skin. “Dara,  _ please _ ,” she pleaded.

“Ask it of me,” he said again, brushing his teeth against her slit. Nahri bit her lip to keep from crying out, then gave in spectacularly when he carefully brushed a fang against her clit. 

“Stay with me,” she whimpered.

“For how long?” His voice was so husky that she knew he couldn’t keep this up for much longer himself, but she was fairly certain that if he made  _ her _ wait for another moment, she would come undone before he had even properly touched her. And he would never let her live that down.

“For as long as I’ll have you.” 

She felt him smile against her folds, and then his mouth covered her clit, his tongue circling the spot with deft precision. He alternated between sucking on her clit and flicking his tongue against, between fleeting brushes and broad strokes that made her pull on his hair. He groaned, a visceral sound at the back of his throat and Nahri bucked under the exquisite pleasure he was giving her. Dara held her still with a hand hooked around each leg, tasting every inch of her with such thoroughness, such leisure. Nahri’s fingers tightened in his hair when he found a persistent rhythm, drinking in everything she was giving him, and when he carefully grazed a fang over her clit, she saw spots bloom in front of her eyes and with a ragged cry, Nahri’s legs tightened around his neck and she came all around him. 

Heart thudding furiously in her chest, Nahri tried to catch her breath and bring herself back in control. But with her legs shaking precariously on his shoulders and the fact that he was bringing himself back up to his knees, running his tongue casually over his lower lip, Nahri feared gathering control over herself would prove futile. Dara lowered her legs from his shoulders before he removed his trousers and settled himself between her spread legs.

“You are a dangerous man,” she whispered when he reached over to kiss her, his cock brushing against her belly while he did so. Tasting herself on his mouth never failed to send a chill down her spine. Dara grinned against her lips, pleased that his rare show of dominance in bed had excited her, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Reaching between them, Nahri found the length of him and wrapped her palm around his cock, its tip already slick with his own arousal. She ran a thumb over its head and Dara pressed his face to the crook of her neck, whispering expletives into her skin. 

Nahri worked his length in her hands, finding the rhythm that she knew he liked, the one that made him groan the way he was groaning now into her ear. He kissed her once more before rising back on his knees. Dara slowly pried her fingers from around his cock, taking it into his own hands and positioning himself. She watched him hungrily, knowing how she probably looked, lying bare and ready with her legs apart and her ragged breath, waiting for him to do with her as he willed. She flushed, hoping he wouldn’t notice. 

Dara placed himself at her entrance, running his tip between her wet slit, coating himself with her, making her back arch when he brushed against her already-sensitive clit. But he wouldn’t make her wait any longer because she could see in the furrow of his brow and the tension in his shoulders that his own patience was wearing thin. So she held her breath the next time he began to slide himself down her folds, and sure enough--

“ _ Fuck _ ,” they both hissed at the same time. Inch by inch, he slid into her, and she felt herself expand to let him in until he was fully sheathed within her. Nahri rocked her hips up to take him even deeper, and he helped her position herself by hooking an arm around the small of her back. And then he began to move, sliding in and out of her, making her gasp with every thrust, her ragged breathing mirroring his.

He lowered himself onto her, propping himself up with one arm, the front of his chest touching her bare breasts, his lips on her throat. All while maintaining his maddening rhythm. Nahri threaded her fingers through his hair, running her free hand over the muscles of his arms, his shoulder blades, his back. Dara brushed back a curl from her face before he tangled his fingers in her mane of hair. When he brought his mouth down on hers again, she felt herself clench around him and Dara gasped against her lips, and she knew he was close just like she was.

“Where?” he struggled to get out, breathing the word into her mouth.

“Where you are,” she replied, and the hand in her hair tightened. His eyes darkened, fixed on hers, and then he picked up his pace. Nahri grinded against him, all space between them disappearing. She did not know where she ended and where he began, and the thought of that alone drove her wild enough for her to tighten around him even further. Dara gasped and lowered his head onto her breast while Nahri cried out, golden light bursting before her eyes as they came together. 

Dara collapsed, his heavy weight a comforting presence on top of her. She traced circles on his back while he breathed, deep and ragged, a comfortable silence descending between them. Dara gently pushed back the hair sticking to her face with sweat, then pressed a kiss to her cheek.

He would not leave today to go back to the life he had built for himself. And perhaps he would not leave tomorrow either, but eventually, Nahri would untangle her limbs from his and let him go. Because difficult as it may be, the alternative was far, far worse, and although she had attempted to live a life without him after that day he had said goodbye to her in the forest, she had always known that there was something missing.  _ Find your happiness, little thief _ , he had said. She had promised him she would.

But that promise had remained unfulfilled… until he had turned up like an answered prayer outside her door in the pitch black of night over a year ago. The stolen moments, the long conversations, the feel of his fiery heat against her, his teasing smirks against her skin and the weight of his emerald gaze as he drank her in… all of that made the time apart worth it. 

Nahri pressed a kiss to his temple, then muttered his name against his hair. “Dara.”

“Yes?” he said back, his voice muffled in the crook of her neck.

“I like the fangs.” A pause, and then he laughed. A full-bodied thing that made her feel light-headed and  _ happy _ that she could make him laugh like that.

“Noted, Banu Nahida.”


End file.
